


hero complex

by Anonymous



Series: horny catradora superhero au [2]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cunnilingus, F/F, Minor Injuries, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering, catra is a superhero, some blood but not a lot, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25835941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: All things considered, Catra doesn’t think being a superhero is too hard.It’d be a lot easier if her roommate-turned-girlfriend didn’t have a hero complex of her own, though.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Series: horny catradora superhero au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1874653
Comments: 7
Kudos: 214
Collections: Anonymous





	hero complex

Catra never quite knew what to make of the mysterious villain looming over Bright Moon—Horde Prime.

Sure, he had a scary sounding name, and sure, from what she heard, his robots were super technologically advanced or whatever, but honestly? In Catra’s opinion? The guy was awful at this city-razing business. Fully stoppable—a minor inconvenience at worst. And a little bitch, to be frank.

Most of the time, Catra was able to destroy whatever bots he sent into Bright Moon without too much trouble—a few scrapes and bruises, maybe a broken rib or two on a bad day, but nothing her powers couldn’t fix. And sure, there’d be property damage—fires and smashed windows and concrete left in smashed pieces—but, hey, that just came with the territory of dealing with giant robots. 

It got boring sometimes.

So, who could blame Catra if she spiced things up a little? She was doing the city a favor by protecting it in the first place; she was allowed to have fun. As a treat.

There was that time she defeated all the bots with her claws sheathed—that had been tricky. Or the time she did it with one eye closed, to see how her depth perception would fare. Or the time she’d gone straight into battle from the bar she’d been celebrating Scorpia’s birthday at—she might not have intentionally set out to prove she could take out Prime’s bots drunk, but, well.

She could. If anyone was wondering.

So, all in all, being a superhero was a surprisingly low-stress job.

It’d be even better if Catra’s girlfriend wasn’t a self-sacrificing idiot.

Catra swallowed and ran her dirty, blood-stained hands under the stream of water coming from her bathroom tap. Her sensitive nose wrinkled at the metallic smell that filled the air as the rose-colored mixture dripped from her soft, fine fur onto the cold, white porcelain of the sink.

She chanced a glance at Adora. Her girlfriend was perched on the toilet seat, holding a clean towel to the large scrape that marred her right side. It wasn’t very deep, thankfully.

But it could’ve been.

It could have been so deep.

In another life, where the robot hit Adora at a slightly different angle, and Adora struck the pavement a little harder, or landed on a sharp, jagged piece of rubble, Catra could have been right there, holding Adora in her arms, watching precious blood slip through her fingers, and completely helpless. Unable to do anything.

All because Adora had to play the hero.

The anger that had been simmering in Catra’ chest for the past half hour flared and grew the more she looked at Adora’s impassive, dazed expression. She dragged her gaze back to her hands and saw that the water was running clear. She turned the tap off and dried her hands, doing her best to keep her breathing even.

She heard Adora stifle a pained groan. Her jaw clenched.

Catra turned and started rifling through the medicine cabinet. She wasn’t quite sure where everything was—she almost never used it, given that she could heal herself if anything serious happened.

“You’re sure nothing’s broken?” she asked, sharp and curt.

“Just bruised.”

“…And you’re sure you don’t want to go to Urgent Care or something?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Catra pulled out a roll of gauze and set it on the counter. “This is gonna be a hack job and you know it.”

“Shouldn’t risk bringing any attention to us,” Adora replied. “It’ll be fine.”

Catra’s ears flattened against her head. The anger in her chest hissed and spit like well-fed fire. That was Adora—self-sacrificing and stubborn as always.

Catra grabbed the washcloth she’d prepared. “Come here,” she said.

Adora rose and came to stand next Catra. She moved the cloth she’d been pressing to her wound out of the way; the bleeding had stopped, thankfully.

Catra ran the washcloth under the warm tap water and began to clean the scrape. The metallic scent was back, and stronger.

Adora hissed and jolted. One of her hands shot up and gripped Catra’s arm. Catra pursed her lips and shook it off, continuing her work.

Catra finished cleaning and dressing Adora’s wound silently—almost mechanically. The anger was still there, bubbling just under the surface, but she pushed it down (at least, for the time being) to deal with Adora’s injuries.

The scrape? There was something she could do about that. Water, saline solution, ointment, gauze…

There were so many marks she couldn’t do anything for, though. The bruises that painted Adora’s torso—Catra bit her tongue and lightly ghosted her fingers over them, wishing she could take away Adora’s hurt as easily as she could take away her own.

When Catra was done, she took a step back and looked Adora dead in the eyes. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Adora glared at her. “Catra—”

“No, no, no. I don’t want to hear it,” Catra growled. “What the hell were you thinking? You could’ve died!”

“You were in trouble, Catra. I had to do something—”

“No, you didn’t! I was fine! If you had just let me do my job, I would’ve taken care of everything.”

“Yeah, right, ‘your job’.” Adora rolled her eyes and started walking, pushing past Catra and walking towards their bedroom.

Catra’s tail bristled. “Yes, my job, and I’d appreciate you staying out of it—”

“And I’d appreciate you actually treating it like a job!” Adora shouted, her hands balled in fists at her sides.

Catra stared at Adora. “Huh?”

“You were showing off! Again!” Adora threw her hands in the air. “What am I supposed to do if you don’t take this shit seriously, Catra? People might get hurt. You’ve gotten hurt. And you still—you still play these fucking games like it doesn’t matter and like you’re _invincible_ —” Adora’s voice broke. “But you’re not.” She poked Catra’s chest. “I’m not the only one who could’ve died tonight.”

With that, she stalked out of the bathroom. Catra watched her go.

The bedroom door down the hall clicked shut. Catra gripped the edge of the countertop, her tail thrashing wildly behind her.

She knew Adora was right. She’d risked too much with her carelessness. She’d put herself in more danger than she had to. Still, she was angry, because she knew that she’d let all of Bright Moon burn at Prime’s hands and let herself die with it before anything happened to Adora.

Catra rubbed her face with one of her hands. She distantly registered that she was still in her suit—now that the heat of the battle had left her, she could feel the way it clung to her sticky, sweaty fur. She slowly peeled it off, staring off at nothing in particular, and made her way over to the shower.

The cool water helped get rid of the grime and dirt and dust that Catra was always left with after facing Prime’s bots, although it left her feeling wrong in a different way—wrong how all cats feel after taking a bath, she assumed. Over the years, she’d experimented with showering while shifted into her human form, but that seemed to just increase her discomfort, strangely.

Drying herself off finally let her feel clean, even if she wasn’t a fan of how bushy it left her fur. She picked up her suit and walked to her room for fresh clothes—well. “Her” room.

Adora and Catra hadn’t moved apartments since they’d started dating. These days, Catra mostly considered Adora’s room to be her own—that was where she slept, that was where her scent was strongest—but she still kept most of her own things in her old bedroom. It almost felt eerie whenever she walked in there now—it had all of her stuff, sure, but it was missing something closer and more fundamental to her being than books or shoes.

(Adora.

It was missing Adora.

It was missing her warmth, her scent, her touch—things Catra hadn’t been able to indulge herself in before but that she now couldn’t live without.

This room was a strange, surreal reminder of the _before_ times, and a way of life she couldn’t imagine anymore.)

Catra swallowed heavily and put on some sleep clothes. The anger had seeped from her body sometime between taking off her suit and showering. Now, all she felt was regret and guilt. She glanced at her old bed—cold and empty, with sheets that hardly smelled like her, and smelled nothing like Adora—and knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep there.

That was why Catra found herself in front of her—their—Adora’s room. She softly knocked on the door. She wasn’t sure if Adora would want her there, or if she was even awake, but she hadn’t thought very far ahead.

“Come in.”

Catra stepped into the room. It was pitch-black, aside from a few slivers of light slipping through the window’s drawn curtains. Whatever, her eyes didn’t need to adjust anyways.

Adora was lying in their bed, turned on her side to avoid lying on her wound. She was looking at Catra with big, doleful eyes, her mouth set in a sad line. She patted the space next to her encouragingly when Catra lingered in the doorway.

Catra slipped into bed next to her, her gaze searching Adora’s expression. She wordlessly grasped one of Adora’s hands in her own, intertwining their fingers and stroking the back of Adora’s palm with her thumb.

“Sorry for yelling earlier,” Adora murmured, her breath ghosting over Catra’s face. “I shouldn’t have gotten so heated.”

“No, it’s okay,” Catra replied. “You were right. And I needed you to pull my head out of my ass.” She hesitated and took a deep breath. “I’m going to do better. I’m sorry.”

Catra brought Adora’s hand to her mouth and kissed her fingers, before letting it go and shifting forward to cup Adora’s jaw. She lightly traced Adora’s smooth skin for a few seconds before leaning in to capture her lips in a short, gentle kiss. Adora let out a contented sigh—Catra’s stomach fluttered at the sound. She pulled away and let her eyes roam over Adora’s bare torso. She squinted.

“…Why haven’t you put a shirt on?”

“Huh? Oh—” Adora’s eyes flickered down and back up again. “I, uh. I guess I forgot.”

Catra snorted. “You forgot?”

“I was emotional, okay?” Adora lightly smacked Catra’s arm. “Don’t mock my pain.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Catra propped herself up and surveyed Adora’s body. Her heart clenched at the sight of the clean, white gauze wrapped around her stomach and the smattering of bruises across her pale skin. She frowned. “Wish I could take it away.”

She looked back at Adora’s face and noticed a little bruise forming on her jaw. As disgustingly sappy as she knew it was, something compelled her to lean in kiss it, gentle and chaste. She pulled back and saw Adora’s eyes flash in dim light of their room.

Again, something drove her to carry on, pressing kisses lower and lower down Adora’s chest, making sure to touch each and every mark she could see. When Adora realized what she was doing, she let out a breathy laugh. “Kissing it better?”

Catra shrugged and said nothing—she didn’t have a retort.

Finally, she reached Adora’s stomach and the gauze bandages. A soft, regretful mewl slipped from her lips—not a sound she often made. Adora chuckled again and thread a hand in Catra’s hair, scratching at the base of one of her sensitive ears. Catra tensed, then relaxed into the touch, pressing a cheek to Adora’s torso and nuzzling against it. She let out a deep, rumbling purr of contentment, languidly sprawling over the bed (or, at least, as much as she could with half of her legs sticking over the edge.)

“Tickles,” Adora said, tightening her grip in Catra’s hair. The pressure did something to Catra’s head, put her in a kind of blissed-out trance. Her purr became even louder, vibrating down into her fingers and toes. Adora gasped above her. “…Catra.”

Catra wrapped her arm around Adora and shifted even closer, barely realizing that Adora had spoken.

“Hey, Catra.”

Catra blinked lazily up at Adora. Most of her attention was still focused solely on that singular hand in her mane of hair, rubbing and pulling and scratching in all the right ways—

“Catra.” The hand was withdrawn. Catra whined at the loss.

Adora moved away from Catra, sitting up while ignoring the other girl’s pout. She clumsily pawed at the medical tape securing the gauze, ripping it off and letting the bandage unfurl. Catra stared at her. “Adora, what are you—”

“Shhh.”

Catra’s mouth snapped shut. She squinted at Adora in confusion. What the hell was she doing?

“Catra, look.” Adora peeled away the gauze. It revealed not the mess of dried blood and ointment Catra had expected, but instead smooth, clear, unmarred skin. Catra gaped. The scrape was gone. And that wasn’t all—Catra’s eyes flickered over Adora’s body and saw that every single bruise out of the dozens she’d been kissing just moments earlier was gone too.

“…What the fuck?”

“Your purr, Catra,” Adora said, her eyes wide with awe and disbelief. “Your purr healed me.”

The two locked eyes. Catra swallowed. “I, uh. I didn’t know I could do that.”

Adora laughed, bright and clear, and pulled Catra in for a proper, bruising kiss. Catra eagerly responded, gripping Adora’s shoulders and pushing her back against the mattress. If Adora was healed, then she didn’t need to worry about being careful.

Her hands roamed Adora’s sides, reveling in the feeling of her unbroken skin. It was impossible. It was incredible. Catra—Catra had been there, just a couple of hours ago, had seen the horrible blow and the skid and the ripped skin and torn clothing and blood and everything, but now…it was like none of it had ever happened. The memories—awful memories—were still there, still rattling around in her brain and deep in her core, but the marks were gone. A strange mix of emotions swirled in Catra’s chest. Happiness, certainly, to see Adora healed, but also a strange unsettledness at the incongruity of the images in her mind and what she was seeing in front of her. Was this how Adora felt every time she saw Catra heal herself? Catra understood then, more then she had before, why it upset Adora so much to see her get hurt, despite knowing about Catra’s powers.

Catra wanted to make it up to her.

Catra, for the second time that night, kissed her way down Adora’s body. It was a bit different this time, though. The bruises were gone, and Catra’s kisses were anything but chaste. They were open-mouthed and hungry, occasionally testing Adora’s skin with the careful press of her sharp fangs. She made quite a few detours, too, losing herself in the warm expanse of Adora’s breasts for longer than she’d care to admit. Adora wasn’t complaining, though—at least, it didn’t seem that way from the way she held Catra’s head in place while Catra licked and mouthed at one of her stiff nipples. Catra smirked and gave it a particularly sharp nip. Adora gasped, her hips stuttering against Catra’s, and tugged at Catra’s hair. That felt good. Catra’s eyes fluttered shut and she purred again, her lips closing fully around Adora’s nipple. Adora swore and writhed under her. “Fuck, _Catra_.”

Catra somehow found the strength to release Adora from her mouth and pulled back to admire her girlfriend’s prone figure. She was flushed, from her cheeks to her collarbones, dazed, and panting. Catra traced a single claw down a path between her breasts and Adora whimpered, her eyes boring holes into Catra’s.

“What do you want, Adora?” Catra asked, skating the claw across the sensitive skin of Adora’s abdomen and enjoying the way her muscles tensed and clenched in response. “Let me take care of you tonight. Tell me.”

Adora’s eyes closed. She swallowed. Catra patiently waited for her to collect herself, continuing to tease her anywhere she could reach.

After some deliberation, Adora’s eyes opened again. Warmth pooled in Catra’s stomach when she saw them—they were so blown out that she could hardly make out any of the blue-grey of Adora’s irises, just hungry black pupils. “Your mouth.”

Catra hummed. “My mouth where, princess?”

“ _Catra_.”

“Fine, fine. I’m only teasing you.” Catra winked and slipped further down Adora’s body, pressing firm, wet kisses to Adora’s abs. Adora fisted her hands in Catra’s hair, staring down at her. Maybe she couldn’t look away—Catra found that she couldn’t. Her gaze was locked onto Adora’s face, barely able to tear itself away from her needy, desperate expression. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a choice but to break eye contact; at least, if she wanted to rid Adora of the few articles of clothing she was actually wearing.

“Pants, princess,” she murmured, unbuttoning Adora’s jeans (God, she really had just tumbled into bed without another thought.) Adora nodded and lifted her hips, allowing Catra to slip them off her legs and toss them carelessly behind her.

Catra leaned forward, her mouth already watering at the familiar, heavy scent of Adora’s arousal. She’d never get tired of it—if anything, each taste only left her craving Adora even more. She reverently eyed the soaked center of Adora’s underwear. She traced her claw in a smooth line between Adora’s legs, and, in response, Adora whined and ground her hips in the air.

Catra pulled her hand back before Adora could cut herself on the claw. “Careful,” she chided. “They’re sharp.”

Adora nodded, though Catra got the sense she wasn’t really listening to the words that were coming out of her mouth. She sighed and grabbed Adora’s underwear, pulling them down and off and—

Fuck.

Not for the first time, Catra silently thanked the universe for her night vision—she could see every detail of Adora’s wet, glistening folds even in near-total darkness. She took a deep breath, savoring the sight, and pushed Adora’s legs apart, exposing her even more.

Adora shivered and bucked under Catra’s grip. “Catra,” she begged—the sound finally drew Catra’s gaze away from the dripping mess between her thighs and back to her face. “Please.”

Catra eyed Adora hungrily. She leaned forward, lightly blowing air across Adora’s legs while Adora trembled with the effort to stay still. “As you wish.”

With that, Catra licked firmly into Adora’s folds, immediately setting a fast, steady pace. Adora’s hands flew to Catra’s hair, pulling her face deeper between her legs and directing her tongue straight to her clit.

Good. Catra loved making Adora feel good, watching her all apart under her touch—she would never deny her anything she asked for.

Catra purred lightly against Adora’s clit, her eyes sparking mischievously.

“Shit!” Adora gasped and thrashed on the bed. Catra backed off for a few moments, moving her tongue slightly lower to let Adora recover, before she repeated the action. Adora arched her back and cried out; the sound echoed through their bedroom and shot right to Catra’s throbbing center.

Again, Catra stopped the purring, returning to a less intense motion while bringing one of her hands up to tease Adora’s folds. Adora moaned as one of Catra’s fingers carefully stroked over her entrance, dipping in but not quite entering.

“Please, Catra,” she panted. “Inside.”

Who was Catra to say no to that?

Catra slowly thrust her finger inside, watching the way Adora’s face went slack with pleasure, her jaw dropping at the dual sensation of Catra’s finger and mouth working in tandem.

Fuck. Catra could do this all day—for the rest of her life, honestly. Her eyes slipped shut as she indulged herself in the heady taste of Adora’s arousal, speeding up the thrusts of her finger. Adora’s hands scrabbled at the back of her head—Catra distantly registered pain at the strength of her grip, but she couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to it.

“Another?” Adora asked.

Catra hummed into Adora’s folds and drew back her hand, gathering Adora’s wetness and lining up two fingers against her entrance. She meant to go slow at first again, but Adora’s walls practically swallowed her fingers immediately, clenching around them and encouraging her to set a faster pace. If Adora’s moans were anything to go by, she wasn’t opposed.

Catra diligently worked Adora towards her climax, maintaining the same rhythm of thrusts and flicks of her tongue while Adora tensed and trembled beneath her, her breath coming in short, quick gasps. Each move Catra made was punctuated with a sigh or a whimper that increased in volume as the seconds ticked on. Her thighs squeezed against the sides of Catra’s head, locking her in place—as if Catra could bear to move. Adora’s moans became higher and higher in pitch; she shook and cursed and chanted Catra’s name like a prayer—she was close. Catra smiled and purred once again against Adora’s clit. It pushed Adora over the edge, screaming Catra’s name at the intensity of the sensation. She bucked and ground her hips desperately against Catra’s face, who patiently and gently worked her through it, softly licking at her dripping folds and slowly withdrawing her fingers from Adora’s twitching walls.

Finally, Adora fell limp on the bed. Catra drew away for just a moment to grab a blanket and throw it over them before collapsing into her embrace, nuzzling her face into the crook of Adora’s neck. They lied there in silence for a few moments while Adora regained her bearings and caught her breath.

“That was incredible,” Adora murmured, her hand coming up to absently stroke at the fine fur of Catra’s back.

Catra shivered at the feeling. “Yeah?”

“I mean it Catra, I can barely feel my legs. Holy shit, why haven’t you used your purr before?”

“Never really thought to, I guess.”

“Well, thank God you did.” Adora yawned—it looked like she could barely keep her eyes open.

Catra glanced at the clock on her nightstand. It was later than she’d expected. She pressed a gentle kiss to Adora’s forehead. “Alright, bedtime. We can talk more about how amazing I am in the morning.”

Adora frowned. “But you haven’t—”

“Don’t worry about it, Adora,” Catra responded, draping an arm across her girlfriend’s warm torso. “Sleep.”

“But—”

“ _Sleep_.”

“…Okay.” Adora’s arms tightened around Catra’s waist.

Between the exhaustion of the day, the rhythm of Adora’s breathing, and the warmth of their bodies pressed together, Catra drifted off pretty quickly, despite her body’s persistent arousal. As she fell asleep, one thought echoed in her mind.

She loved Adora. She hadn’t said it out loud yet, but maybe she should. After all, she’d do anything for Adora—even give up fighting Horde bots while drunk.

**Author's Note:**

> second time writing smut is done. i am not the person i was when i began this journey.
> 
> jkjk anyways i just really like this au so i decided to write more! cheers!


End file.
